


Refugium

by toffiendfee



Category: Initial D
Genre: Angst, Dark, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Kidnapping, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Instability, Ryousuke has some issues in here and it isn't nice, Yandere, did i mention that this is dark, it's that dark psychological shit again, just to make it absolutely clear that this is not a happy story, lots of implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 12:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffiendfee/pseuds/toffiendfee
Summary: Keisuke has always been close to his brother. Now he just wishes he could tear away from him and save all three of them.





	Refugium

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! I wrote something messed up again!! 
> 
> I just love toying with the yandere trope because it's really interesting in my opinion. Also, "taking my personal headcanons and twisting them until they become really dark" is just a thing I like doing.

It’s been at least two years now since Keisuke had last felt comfortable in the company of his brother. Those were easier, happier times. Times where Keisuke cherished the connection they had and everything that his aniki had done for him. He often remembers that summer when everything was warmer, lighter; grasping their dreams in their hands and the world at their feet, or at least it had felt that way for him.

Things had probably been changing already. Maybe. Keisuke doesn’t know. The only thing that he knows is that he noticed far too late.

Over time, he has become scared of Ryousuke. His brother now acts in ways that are unpredictable, obsessively seeking to keep close what he holds dear; and Keisuke is scared of meeting him, but he’s more scared of keeping his distance and one day having him stand before him demanding to know what he thinks he is doing with that flare in his eyes.

The house they grew up in is a quiet place now, quiet and cold and dominated by Ryousuke’s suffocating presence. It’s become his kingdom after their father died, their mother having moved out long ago.

“Keisuke.”

His brother smiles; it’s that pleasant, subtle smile that he has always been so good at. He pulls him into a hug as a greeting, something that used to happen rarely, but now happens ever so often with this new version of Ryousuke. Or maybe it’s not quite a new version; maybe this side of him had been there all along, buried under a façade until something – _something_ – made it break through.

The outside world, people who don’t know him so well, wouldn’t notice the change. Keisuke has been around. He has noticed. While his brother still embraces him, he finds himself wondering again when it went wrong, what exactly went wrong to produce _this_-

Ryousuke finally let go of him and silently, smilingly, motions for him to come in. He doesn’t ask how he has been, what he was currently doing, or anything of that sort. He never asks that because he always knows already. Keisuke doesn’t ask from where he has that knowledge. Ryousuke has long been the one dictating his life, and Keisuke guesses he can consider himself fortunate that he’s let out on a long figurative leash. Unlike-

“Come. Don’t you want to visit him, too?”

Keisuke shivers; no, he doesn’t want to confront this anymore. He still finds himself walking after his brother wordlessly, upstairs to the chamber with the lock on the door.

Once upon a time, he would have looked forward to seeing the person he had grown to care for so much.

Of course, Ryosuke had figured that detail out about him, too. How long he has known, Keisuke has no idea. He likes to cling to the idea that in the beginning, he has been subtle enough. That him getting closer to Takumi wasn’t merely something Ryousuke allowed to happen. Or worse, something he orchestrated all along.

Keisuke can’t tell the two apart; in fact, the more he thinks about it, the less he thinks of himself as a dog on a leash and the more he fears that he is more of a marionette at this point. How much of him is actually still him, and how much of it is the person his brother shaped him to be?

Inside the chamber, there’s a vase with roses on the nightstand. Keisuke wonders what for, if Takumi can’t even see them. He feels thankful for that blindfold, though, because he couldn’t bear to look his friend – his former friend? – in the eye. Deep inside, he knows that his brother feels the same way. That even this new Ryousuke is a bit scared of confronting what he has done.

Keisuke swallows, takes a tentative step closer. The worst thing is that he can’t even see if Takumi is afraid in some way, or if he has long stopped caring. He doesn’t move; only the slight rising and falling of his chest tells that he is even still alive. Keisuke wants to look away, he wants to look away so badly, but his own guilt and fear won’t let him. He remembers the first time he stepped into this room and saw what his brother had done, realising how far he was willing to go to keep close what he refused to lose grasp on.

It hadn’t been too far after the accident, maybe six months or so. It had been a difficult time for Keisuke, too: Coming to terms with the fact that his rival, his friend, the one who drove him ever further, would never partake in an official race again. Something with his spine, causing him chronic pain and making it dangerous for him to do anything physically taxing. Keisuke had visited him in hospital, quite often so. He rarely saw Ryousuke during that time and afterwards when Takumi was sent home to figure out what to do with his life now.

Keisuke had wanted to give him some space. He never even noticed how he vanished.

Only when he had been standing in this chamber, one that he dimly remembers being for storage once, the puzzle pieces had come together. But by that point, it had already been too late.

He’s still staring, now, trying to pay no mind to the painkillers and the sleeping pills and the heavy blanket of misery in the air. Back then, he had shouted. Stammered out his words in disbelief, disgust, fear – now he doesn’t even dare to say anything anymore. Back then, he had learned that no amount of anger or reasoning or pleading could bring back his aniki. Back then, he had learned to fear his brother. Back then, Takumi had learned to fear him just as much as he had to fear Ryosuke.

Now Keisuke wishes he could turn back time and mend things long before this could even happen. He can’t, of course he can’t; he knows that.

_You didn’t do anything_, his guilt accuses. _You didn’t do anything, instead of helping, you just crumbled._

_Weak. Weak. You didn’t help, you made it worse, madeitworsehurthimlookwhatyouhavedone it’s your fault-_

He knows he’s shivering now. He flinches when he suddenly feels Ryousuke’s hand on his shoulder, a touch probably supposed to be reassuring.

“He has been feeling better lately,” he says, deliberately misinterpreting Keisuke’s reaction.

The worst thing is that Keisuke knows he really _believes_ what he just said.

Once when visiting he had entered a silent, dark house, tentatively calling out to his brother and expecting the worst. He had found him in the chamber, unmoving and clinging to Takumi desperately like his life depended on this anchor. At another call of his name, he unclenched his fingers, stood up and turned around, smiling like nothing had happened.

That’s the sort of chokehold he has on Keisuke, too. He’s scared of what would happen if he shook off the marionette strings and left, scared of what would happen to both of them if he abandoned them.

Keisuke hates what he has done, or rather, he hates what he _hasn’t_ done.

Maybe he could have figured out what destroyed his brother from the inside, what made him so afraid of losing something. Both Takumi and Ryousuke deserve better than this. Keisuke isn’t sure whether he deserves better, too. He remembers screaming, inflicting pain because he’s too weak to do anything and resist.

He wants to be a different person, someone who was there and did what was needed. Instead, he drowned in his brother’s despair, too weak to fight his way to the surface.

He doesn’t know whether he will ever be able to feel anything other than fear again.

“Thank you for being there,” Ryousuke says quietly and gently, and hugs him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I always have difficulties tagging experimental fics like this one, so please tell me if I should add a tag. I know I occasionally write some pretty dark stuff and I want people to know what to expect. 
> 
> <s>no i didn't write this story because i'm still stressed ahaha what do you mean there are two thesis papers i have to write until the end of the month haha</s>


End file.
